Looking In
by smilingsoprano
Summary: Raoul watches his life fall apart. Three connected ficlets, though stylistically very different. T for angst and adult themes. Mild slashy implications. Written for Goldenlake's SMACKDOWN 2011.
1. Juniper

**Title: **Looking In

**Chapter: **Juniper

**Author: **smilingsoprano

**Rating: **T for angst and adult themes.

**Pairings: **Gary/Raoul, non-explicit.

******Summary:****** Raoul watches his life fall apart.

**A/N:** Now finished. The chapters were written separately and not in order, and so are more ficlets within a general timeline. They vary a bit in style. Written for Goldenlake's most excellent SMACKDOWN competition.

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><p>Gary's wit was the most attractive thing about him. When he smiled, wry and mocking, he became something other than the lanky, perhaps too-clever knight. He raised one eyebrow incredulously, as though daring his conversation partners to match his sarcasm. His tongue was razor-edged and deft. Most of the time he aimed to disarm, but when he struck, he pierced the offender to the quick.<p>

Raoul loved that. He had never been the talker. He knew full well he was the brawn and Gary the brains. But when he watched his year-mate joke effortlessly, he never felt inadequate. They were complimentary, not competitive.

Somehow, though, all that enjoyment turned sour when the watching was done from across the room as his closest companion plied his tongue on a pretty blonde. What was her name? Silvia? Cynthia? It didn't matter. Raoul stopped one of the pages wandering about the hall and replaced his empty glass with a full one. He drained it immediately, grimacing at the burn of the alcohol.

Across the great space, next to the opposite wall, Gary leaned forward, his half-smile bright. She edged closer, obviously intrigued, and Raoul felt a cold shiver of disappointment. He leaned against a pillar, obscured by the shadows, trying desperately not to attract attention.

The blonde laughed, silvery and light. Even from the other side of the room, he could hear it. Gary grinned in return.

Mithros, but Raoul hated parties.


	2. Green Willow

**Chapter: **Green Willow

**Warnings: **Lots and lots of angst. Slashiness.

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><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

"You know perfectly well."

"Jon is asking after you. He's worried."

"Jon can go boil his head."

"Listen Raoul, I don't know what in Mithros' name you're up to, but I am not amused. You disappeared, your friends are concerned, and I would like an explanation!"

The larger knight stood abruptly, regarding Gary with reddened eyes. "You thought I wouldn't notice?" he snarled. "Or did you just not care?"

Gary's lips thinned. "If you're talking about Cythera—"

"Of course I'm talking about Cythera!" Raoul spat. "What, am I not enough for you anymore? Or are you just looking for a woman to bed so the poxy servants will stop spreading rumors?"

"That's unfair. I like Cythera, and I certainly enjoy talking with her, but we are not lovers. You're being an idiot."

Raoul stepped closer, now nose-to-nose with Gary. "Am I?" he whispered, tears standing in his eyes. He reached out a trembling hand, laying his palm against the other knight's cheek. The corner of his mouth twisted bitterly as he traced the outline of his jaw and mouth.

"Am I really? I know you like bedding women. So tell me that wouldn't be easier and safer for you."

There was a long pause. "It would be," Gary finally murmured.

"I knew it. I _knew_ it. You've been thinking about taking up with her."

"Maybe I have! Is that so wrong? I—Mithros, Raoul, I don't want to hide all my life! I don't want to kiss in the shadows. I don't want to have a lover I can never touch in public, never marry, never have children with!"

Raoul flinched. "You don't want me."

Gary took a deep breath, eyes cold. "Maybe I don't."

All the air went out of Raoul as he stumbled back, shaking with the effort of holding in his tears. He took a shuddering breath and met Gary's familiar brown eyes, only to see rejection there.

"No," he rasped. "You _can't_. Gary, I—you can't do this to me. You can't just _leave_."

"Why not?" the other knight demanded, livid with a mixture of rage and grief. "I have other options. Better options, ones that don't involve everyone in the capitol talking about my deviant tendencies."

"_BUT I DON'T_!" Raoul screamed. "Maybe you can just jump ship whenever you like, but some of us don't have the luxury of playing both sides! _Some_ of us can't just decide to turn _traitor_ whenever we get scared!"

Gary, his face pale and his eyes blazing, regarded his friend and lover with an unreadable expression. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

And just like that, he was gone.


	3. Rosemary

**Chapter: **Rosemary

**A/N: **Unlike the other ficlets (as I said, these were written separately), this is one of the pieces where I intersperse the narrative with lines from Shakespeare. These particular lines are taken from Hamlet's first soliloquy, though they are not in order. Enjoy!

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><p><em>That it should come to this:<em>

Raoul had never thought this day possible. He had always wondered, whenever a relative nagged him about marrying or his father attempted to drop hints about providing heirs, whether Gary was subjected to the same annoyances. Every so often he saw his friend and lover eying a woman, and he had teased and nudged and kissed him until it stopped. But then came Cythera.

_Heaven and earth,  
><em>_Must I remember? Why, she should hang on him  
><em>_As if increase of appetite had grown  
><em>_By what it fed on._

It had begun during Midwinter celebrations, no more than flirtatious conversation. But within a week, they were inseparable. Raoul had watched from the shadows, feeling the bitterness grow in his chest. When he went to Gary each night—and he had always been the one to travel, perhaps that was a sign—he touched him with more hunger and more desperation than before. He tried sweetness and anger, playfulness and passion, and every time Gary grew more distant, less affectionate.

_O that this too too sallied flesh would melt,  
><em>_Thaw and resolve itself into a dew,_

He buried his face in his hands with a sob, the words of their last conversation rebounding in his head. Once again he saw that pale, furious face as his closest companion told him that his love would never be enough.

_O God, God,  
><em>_How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable  
><em>_Seem to me all the uses of this world!_

Raising his head, Raoul looked about the wreckage of his room. He knew he should gather up the broken furniture and shredded bedding—if anyone else saw it, they would surely ask the cause, and there was no one he could safely tell—yet he couldn't bring himself to stand. He felt weak, drained, incapable of anything more than silently bearing the pain that broke over him in waves.

He was startled from his reverie by a knock on the door. "Raoul?" It was Jon's voice, concerned and edged with that commanding tone he'd just begun to master. "Let me in. Are you alright? We should talk. We're all worried about you."

Raoul sighed and stood, making his way to the entrance. He wiped his eyes and pasted on a smile, then admitted Jon. When the prince looked about the shambles of his room with wide eyes, Raoul forced a laugh.

"Sorry for the mess. Things got a bit rowdy last night. Nothing to be worried about, just some chairs that need replacing."

_But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue._


End file.
